Angelic Deductions
by DireWolf88
Summary: His kind had always been a passionate race, though he himself could never attest to that fact, until now. Until her- with her sweet soul, big brown eyes, and soft beautiful wings. Can his impressive attributes as both an Angel and a Consulting Detective be enough to win her, or will an ancient evil rise to destroy them both?


_**BBC's Sherlock is not mine.**_

John was running all out now. Pumping every last ounce of his considerable strength into the sprint. Fangs extended, night vision zeroed in on their fleeing prey, the Nosferatu was desperate to end this hunt.

He wanted to get home to his mate. His beautiful, feisty mate, who he had promised to join later that night for a naked dance under the full moon. Mary was half Gypsy, half Pixie, and all mischief. She had the ability to bring the occasional wild side out of his normally stoic being. A fact which frightened him early in their Courtship. But fate had declared she was his, from the moment he saw her sultry dance beneath a circus tent on one of their cases, he knew she was his. The lightening strike to his gut spread a warmth throughout his entire being settling like a stone into the pit of his soul.

The sound of wings swooshing overhead drew his thoughts back to the moment at hand. He shook off thoughts of his tempting mate and focused on the chase, barely catching sight of his partner in the air above him, dodging and weaving through the London buildings with a stealthy expertise that still left John impressed, even after all these years of knowing him.

"Stop running, Moran! This is pointless!" John yelled at the culprit. They continued the chase down a dark alley, which turned out to be a dead end. Moran turned around and found an angry ex-military man in full Nosferatu mode mere inches from his face. But he was not without his own defenses. He extended his claws preparing for a knock down drag out fight, but never got the chance. He heard the softest of thuds behind him and turned again to find himself boxed in. By an Angel. Its midnight colored wings were spread to their fullest extent, as he had obviously just landed.

"Well Sebastian, I believe this has gone on quite long enough. Don't you?" the Angel questioned with a brisk snap of its wings. The action and the deep baritone accompanying it made Moran flinch. Fear was an unpleasant stench in the air.

He gulped. "Never. My people deserve to be heard. To be respected. Revered even. Instead, we are forced to hide in the shadows. Like animals!" Despite his anxiety, his temper gave him courage and he raged against his would be captors. But his little rebellion was short-lived.

The Noseratu growled behind him and used a strong grip on his shoulder to force him to his knees. The Angel flared his wings once more and pumped them once, the strong gust of wind effectively silencing Moran.

"Ridiculous Demon drivel. Your people _have_ been heard and most are respected, living good honest lives with the same liberties and freedoms as all other species. But your _faction _cannot settle for that. You use terror and death in your bid for power. A coward's way."

Moran spit at the Angels feet. "Blasted Angel superiority. You think you are gods...but you are no better than the rest of us."

Here, the Angel let out a very uncelestial snort. "I never boasted such a claim. I_ am_ superior of course, but that has nothing to do with my species and everything to do with my vast intellect and skills of deduction. Wouldn't you say John?" This last question was directed at the Nosferatu.

John let out an exasperated sigh. "Sure. Now can we please finish this?" he insisted, squeezing Moran's shoulder so hard that the Demon squeaked in pain. "Sorry," John mumbled halfheartedly.

"Ah yes of course, your carnal appointment. Very well. Sebastian Moran, Kethari Demon First Class, the Celestial Council has found you guilty of mass homicide, illegal weapons trading, and terrorism. Well, I say the Council, but really it was _me_ who gathered the extensive evidence against you. It was easy really. A simple matter of locating your-"

"Ehem..." John interrupted.

The Angel glared at his partner, but waved his hand in acknowledgement. "Yes, yes. These charges have been placed before you. How do you plead?" The light atmosphere from mere seconds before vanished with the official question. The power in the air was simmering- gathering around the Angel, prepared to do his bidding.

Moran's smile was cold, his tone when he answered even frostier. "Guilty. And_ proud _of it."

The Angel nodded, obviously not surprised. Demons were after all, a habitually stubborn and proud race. His confession was expected.

John spoke up, his voice thickened around his fangs. "By tradition, you are granted a final request, should it be within reason and our power to fulfill."

Moran ignored the Nosferatu's presence and looked straight into the Angel's eyes, but couldn't maintain the connection for long. The power was simply too great. "My request is this- I would know the name and title of my murderer."

The Angel pulled a greatsword from the sheath at his back and rested the tip of the blade on the Demon's shoulder. "So be it. But I am no murderer. I am a Triskelion Angel, First Class, and a member of the Order of Gabriel, sent to seek out injustice and evil, and dispose of it. But my own self imposed title and the one I most identify with is consulting detective."

John rolled his eyes at that last bit, releasing his grip and stepping back, far enough away to avoid the deadly blade, but fully capable of stopping Moran should he attempt to escape.

The Angel summoned the roiling power and gathered it into the sword's gleaming blade, using two hands to raise it above his head. "And the name...is Sherlock Holmes." With that, he brought the blade down in a powerful arc, removing the Demon's head from its body with frightening ease, sending both pieces into an explosion of silver dust moments after death.

"Bleck." Sherlock grunted in disgust shaking his wings out in an attempt to remove the Demon residue from his feathers. "Why must they always make such a mess?"

John laughed. "Yes Sherlock, I'm sure the last thought on their minds just before death is 'hm, I really must ruin my executioner's night by dirtying their wings and outfit."

Sherlock seemed to consider this before shaking his head. "No, I don't believe that's right. Really, John, you should leave the deductions to me."

"Yeah, I'll be sure and do that," John grumbled beneath his breath. With the hunt ended, John allowed his fangs to retract and his vision returned to normal. He turned around to check that the alley remained secure. "You know, we need to repor-" He stopped talking after he heard the tell-tale rustling sound that indicated his partner had already left.

Sure enough, he turned around and found the alley empty. He glanced up and found Sherlock hovering a good ways above him, the flap of his massive wings appearing as dancing shadows in the night due to their dark color.

"Until tomorrow, John. I'll meet you at Bart's at 8." He spoke no louder than he normally would, but John's sensitive Nosferatu hearing allowed him to decipher every word as if he were standing right beside him.

John afforded his friend a sarcastic salute, then took to the shadows and began to make his way home, his pace too fast for the average human to notice as more than a passing breeze. He sensed more than saw Sherlock make a show-boating pass above his head before turning in the opposite direction toward 221B. No matter- John would soon be home with his mate and engaging in his favorite Gypsy ritual. One that left he and his mate sweaty and exhausted by morning.

Besides, their appointment at Bart's was to meet the new pathologist. John had conducted some minor research on Doctor Molly Hooper and had discovered to his surprise that she too was an Angel. It was rare for an Angel to be in such a morbid position. They were generally creatures of light and joy, reveling in life. But he supposed Sherlock was an exception as well, what with his fascination with solving mysterious deaths and the science behind them. John had rarely seen Sherlock interact with his own kind, not counting his brother, much less one that was outside the norm like him.

The last coherent thought in John's head that night before encountering his naked wife in their secluded back yard was that tomorrow's introductions should be an interesting experience indeed.

_**Greetings all. Direwolf here. I have NOT given up on The Hunt is On, but this little gem would not leave me be. I have a pretty cool plan laid out for it, some chapters written up and am really enjoying the universe in my head. There will be lots of romance, hot action, and supernatural awesomeness. Anybody interested?**_


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